


Deeper Waters

by hhavenh



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Soen no Kiseki/Akatsuki no Megami | Fire Emblem Path of Radiance/Radiant Dawn
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-01
Updated: 2016-12-01
Packaged: 2018-09-03 12:19:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8713702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hhavenh/pseuds/hhavenh
Summary: The crowd is laughing behind him, and Volke's eyes are creased in humor. Makalov is ten times a fool, but Geoffrey almost can't care when this quiet man smiles before him in the midday sun.





	

It wasn’t until a hand met his chest that Geoffrey realized the shadows of this archway were occupied.

Start burned through his blood before recognition; but both passed quickly enough that he was still only mildly aggravated. And not even at his sudden company, “May I help you?”

Volke was leaning against the side of the passage, leisure defined in the slope of his shoulders and the ease of his eyes. His hand dropped before Geoffrey had the thought to take it. He didn’t speak, but the reason for the quiet amusement in his face became evident a moment later.

A shout and the sound of running feet echoed from the market square before them. A chorus of laughter followed, brightened by the high giggles of children. Both vendors and customers alike had gathered in a wide circle around the fountain, shopping ignored in favor of watching a lanky man dart around in growing panic.

A man with hair the color of spring roses.

Geoffrey groaned. Deep in his throat, as though a bear was growling to life inside his chest, “What is he doing?”

What Makalov was doing became clear a moment later. A man and a woman burst out from the other side of the fountain, both garbed in the livery of wardens. Geoffrey squinted but couldn’t catch a good look at the patches sewn onto their left sleeves. “Bennish?“ It wasn’t really a guess.

Volke hummed an affirmative as Makalov tried to dive into the crowd.

The crowd responded by gleefully throwing him back.

Geoffrey felt irritation blister up his throat and swallowed down the bellow about to break free. Makalov didn’t look to be wearing anything that definitively tied him to the Royal Knights, but there were few that wouldn’t recognize Crimea’s general barking from the sidelines.

A pointless worry. Makalov was a staple of Melior all himself. There was likely not a single individual watching that didn’t know him to be a knight.

The wardens were a likely exception. They wouldn’t be wasting their time on this ridiculous chase otherwise. “Have I ever told you how often I want to strangle him?”

Volke hummed again and didn’t complain when Geoffrey pressed against his hair, as if that could distract from this asinine spectacle.

And it did, strangely enough.

It wasn’t often Volke’s hair was this clean, or that he went outdoors without his bandana. He’d even bothered with a comb, the strands soft and wisped in a way Geoffrey rarely felt. There was a scent, faint and familiar. One too alike the soap in Geoffrey’s chambers to have come from elsewhere. Volke was shaven as well, all of his cheeks and jaw freed from the usual stubble. Geoffrey didn’t mind his men with a beard, but it was always a treat be able to cup Volke’s jaw between his hands and feel nothing but soft flesh.

Now wasn’t the time, but Geoffrey looked forward to indulging later.

He wasn’t sure what had prompted Volke to treat himself to a bath or to bother with a shave, but Geoffrey wouldn’t complain. It was…nice, to see that Volke was this comfortable in his space. That he would take it upon himself to make use of the amenities available instead of wasting time finding room at the public baths.

And not just the amenities it seemed. First his soap, and now Geoffrey recognized the collar of one of his own shirts. All covered by a gifted jacket that had hung unused in the back of his wardrobe for the last three months. Geoffrey backed up a step, but only to see that Volke had borrowed a recently tailored pair of trousers. Ones with a waist sewn far more tightly than Geoffrey could wear. He’d been irate at the time, but Geoffrey wasn’t sure he could be anymore when they clung to Volke’s long legs in just the right way.

Volke was often striking, but never like this.

A bit improper, but Geoffrey couldn’t help but come forward and take Volke’s waist in either hand, just for the novelty of feeling him through a jacket that had never been stained with dirt and blood.

He was humored for a moment before Volke’s quiet murmur broke through the crowd’s unending laughter, “Thought you knew better than to let anyone catch sight of you with a fireman.”

“Think I’ll take the risk.” Geoffrey hooked his chin over Volke’s shoulder and slid a pointed hand down his side. “Though you hardly look the part of any sort of rogue today.” Even caught in shadow he was a far departure from his usual habit of faded trousers and weather beaten leather. If they found him other boots no one would even bat an eye to see so well dressed a man appear on Geoffrey’s arm at court.

An amusing thought, if one Geoffrey wasn’t foolish enough to share.

Volke shrugged, indifferent and likely unaware of how natural and relaxed he looked in such attire. “Didn’t think you’d mind.”

“You thought correctly,” Geoffrey assured, more pleased by the assumption that he could say. “I’ve told you more than once to help yourself to whatever you like.” To see that his words hadn’t fallen on deaf ears was so very gratifying.

Less gratifying was the shriek that Makalov let free when one of the wardens caught hold of his leg.

Geoffrey sighed. “Suppose I should go interfere.”

Volke turned enough that his smooth jaw slid against Geoffrey’s cheek, “There even anything you can do?”

There were so many things Geoffrey could do. Things much more satisfying than giving this incorrigible fool any assistance. He could just turn and walk back to the castle, or side-step the entire situation and continue on to the apothecary three streets over. Geoffrey could even see if Volke would consider accompanying him, and maybe later they’d share a pitcher in the bustle of Greil’s Retreat.

With the mood he was in, Volke might even agree.

A pleasant thought, one then soured when the crowd began to heckle as Makalov stumbled around a stray dog.

“There is,” Geoffrey finally muttered. “I just need to have a word with one of the wardens.”

Volke’s leaned back in his grasp. Easy and loose in a way he so rarely was in public. “Didn’t know your authority extended to foreign debt.”

If Geoffrey’s authority was anything worth the name then the Royal Knights wouldn’t have a scoundrel like Makalov on the roster. “Crimean law doesn’t allow knights in active service to the kingdom to be taken by debtors.”

He felt Volke smile and turned enough to see the humor in his lips. “That’s too bad.”

Geoffrey curled his arms tighter and let Volke bear his full weight. It always made something pleased race up his spine to have the affections of someone who could do so without buckling. “I keep lobbying his chosen lord to make an exception. You can see how successful I’ve been.” As he spoke the wardens tried to flank Makalov from either side of a fruit stall. He evaded them with another circuit of the fountain.

Children cheered him from the side, and Volke proved himself a traitor as he snorted.

There was nothing even remotely humorous about a disgrace of a knight scurrying around the market square like some thieving craven. A craven that apparently didn’t even realize that he was protected by Crimean statutes.

Again, Geoffrey was so tempted to walk away. To let some other knight, or even Makalov’s lord, later drag him from the wardens’ clutch. 

Volke apparently knew his mind. He smiled again, his lips close enough to curve against Geoffrey’s cheek. “No one’s spotted you. Can’t be much harm in letting him stew for a few hours.”

So tempting.

So incredibly unendingly _invigoratingly_ tempting.

But that way laid the path of negligence, and Geoffrey just didn’t know how to let go his responsibility like that. Not in any way that wouldn’t rankle later.

Irritating, and so often exhausting, but truth regardless.

“Maybe not,” Geoffrey said, reluctance weighing like lead in his boots as he moved away. “And yet I must.” Volke didn’t refuse him when Geoffrey reached for his hand. Even after but the briefest kiss his eyes were away in so endearing a shyness. “Suppose I’ll see you this evening.”

“Will you?”

Geoffrey snorted and looked Volke over once more. He was no less striking from the front. “I would think so.”

Volke arched a dark brow, “You sure I don’t have some other Crimean lord to keep company?

As if there was any other with the stones enough to sample the Fireman’s more intimate attentions.

Geoffrey smiled and played along anyway, “Is there?”

Volke’s face was made darker by his shadows, but they couldn’t hide the mischievous upturn of his lips. “And what if there is?”

Geoffrey was still close enough to hook Volke by either side of his belt and tug him forward. The action was swift and unexpected enough that Volke’s eyes widened. It was a pleasant surprise, if the continued curve of his lips was anything to go by. “Then I would have to state some complaint.”

“That all?” Volke lifted his hands to hang from Geoffrey’s wrists, something still so easy in his bearing. “Just a complaint?”

“At first,” Geoffrey agreed. “And if this lord refused to be sensible, I’d just have to run them through with my lance.”

Again, that shocked pleasure. Volke’s eyes flared far wider, though his smile did not fade. If anything it grew brighter. “Seems excessive.”

“Seems like they should have known better.”

Volke very nearly laughed aloud. Geoffrey could even count the dimples that flared to life on either side of his face. “Not sure you could get away with that.”

“Of course I could,” Geoffrey said. “Challenge them to a duel, stage a joust, there are a hundred ways I could go about it.” He tugged at Volke’s belt again, and couldn’t help the little thrill that followed when Volke continued to let himself be moved. “I may not have been raised at court, but I still understand how things are done.”

There was something inescapably enchanting about Volke’s smile, “Sounds like a hassle. ”

“Maybe,” Geoffrey allowed, “but how else would all these other lords know to leave you be?”

Volke bit the inside of his lip and held quiet a moment. “Are you that jealous of my time?” There was something beneath the humor in his face. A consideration that made Geoffrey strangely nervous.

He swallowed and hoped for wit, but honesty emerged instead, “I am extremely jealous of your time.” His mouth was dry, and Geoffrey had no idea why. “So much so that you’re lucky I count Bastian a brother, else you’d be down an employer.”

There, that smile. Eyes again creased in humor and shocked pleasure. “Really?” Volke let his weight go forward and snaked his hands up until they were clasped behind Geoffrey’s neck. “You’d have words with Bastian, if he was taking too much of my time?”

Was that judgment in his voice? Or maybe doubt?

Were they still playing, or had this conversation crossed to deeper waters?

Geoffrey wasn’t sure which he’d rather, and gave the truth just in case, “If I honestly thought he did more than ply you with coin to skulk about nefariously, then him and I would have far more than words.”

It was hard to tell if Volke was actually amused by this sort of talk. As if he was someone in Geoffrey’s possession instead of a fiercely capable man that unnerved and astonished in equal measure. Sure, he still smiled and his eyes were so far from their habitual sharpness, but that didn’t always mean anything.

Volke was a man of many masks, and not only ones of cloth.

It was a relief when his lips finally touched Geoffrey’s in chaste affection, and when he unthreaded his fingers without losing his smile. “Go on,” he said, quiet and fond. “Maybe I’ll see you later. “

Not a promise, but Geoffrey was warmed regardless.


End file.
